A Birthday Surprise
by insanehpluver
Summary: Hermione's life has been full of disappointments. Harry seems determined to marry another girl, but Hermione wishes otherwise. Will her eighteenth birthday, her first after the war, bring a pleasant surprise or just another disappointment?
1. Chapter 1 : And So It Begins

Author's Note

Hi, yeah it's me again. I was cleaning out my computer drives when I found this thing floating around. I resurrected it, and, well, fixed it up a bit. So here it is. I'm not so sure what my initial plot was, but I came up with a new one, so it's all good. Anyway, enough with my rambling, here's the story.

Disclaimer

I'm not getting paid for this and I don't own Harry Potter or other related characters, they belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and the people at Warner Bros. and Scholastic.

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She knew. How, she did not know. But, she had a hunch that she was right. Of course she was right. Hermione Granger was always right. Even though she had grown up without any sisters, or brothers for that matter, so she wasn't entirely sure what love felt like, but she knew. In her heart, she knew.

They say she's the smart one, the third of the famous (or infamous) trio—Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and her, Hermione Granger who actually works for the good grade. She knows it is true that neither of her best friends work as hard, or as much, as she does, but she also knows they have so much more to deal with.

Harry, with the burden of being the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord, was born with a heavy weight on his head and had only just relinquished it.

Ron, with six siblings, has always been in the shadows. Recently, though, she's come to think that maybe he's most comfortable there.

Hermione, well, she was born a Mudblood, is a Mudblood, and will be one forever. Only lately has she realized just how much more than a Mudblood she is…

~

The top headline that horrific Wednesday was Harry Potter: Engaged! Somehow, this really got me going. For weeks now, in the aftermath of his defeat of Lord Voldemort, young women and girls really got, er, _interested_, in him. He'd have a group of obsessive fans around him all the time. Ron and I, being his best friends and confidants since our first year at Hogwarts, had gotten used to his fame. This was a little much, though. We never had a moment to ourselves. It was a bit ridiculous. Scratch that: it was a lot ridiculous. He had resorted to wearing Invisibility Cloaks whenever going out in public. Perhaps this is why the news shocked me so much: I had never thought he'd been seeing someone on the side. Or perhaps, I was surprised he hadn't shared his happiness with finding his "one" with us.

_Us_. How odd it is that maybe, in those precious seconds around the proposal, the term _us_ lingered on being the trio and being the trio plus one. Did he hesitate, or did he know that when he said those words, _will you marry me_, he had changed our lives forever? Now, there were no more late-night parties, clubs, and whatever mischief we could get into at that late time of night.

I had no time to get Ron's reaction. He had left for Romania to visit his older brother Charlie the day before. It was just me. All me. Alone. A tiny bit of me hinted maybe, just maybe, I was jealous of there being another girl in his life. _Of course not_, I quickly discarded the thought.

Someone knocked on my bedroom door. "Come in," I hollered. Hastily I stuffed the newspaper under my mattress and wiped away at my face, which had mysteriously gotten wet in the last ten minutes.

"Hello, Hermione." Oh, no. I wasn't prepared for this. _It's too soon!_ My brain screamed. _Too soon!_ I had no time to prepare, no time to come up with the perfect thing to say to congratulate him, yet express my complicated feelings plus the lump in my throat.

I turned to face the one in my doorframe: Harry. 

"Hi, Harry," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and my expression neutral. "How've you been in the last couple of hours I haven't seen you?" He grinned.

"Yeah, I know I just saw you, but you wouldn't believe what just happened to me," he replied seriously. I looked him in the eye, willing him to tell me about his recent engagement. "I was walking along Diagon Alley, in my Invisibility Cloak of course, and I saw a glittering shop. It was new there, I guess. Anyways," he continued with his story, me completely lost as to what on Earth he was rambling on about, "turns out it was a ring store! I walked in, and I realized something that rang a bell in my head. I saw Molly with Arthur, Bill with Fleur, and I realized I had been feeling the same way as they do for a while. A very long time, in fact. But I'm not sure she feels the same way. Do you follow me?" I blinked.

"Sure," I said. "How do you know she doesn't feel the same way?" _How do you know you're the only one feeling this?_ "I mean, have you checked into account the signs?" Harry looked confused. "Sit down," I sighed, gesturing to the bed next to me. He sat, and I caught sight of the dark circles under his eyes. I pulled him into a sleeping position. "You look tired," I commented. He smiled.

"At least I know my Hermione will take care of me," he yawned. I smiled, but I felt my heart tear a little at the corner at the thought of no longer being the one to care for him.

"Always," I replied. "Well, does she look at you whenever she thinks you're not looking at you? Or does she try to catch your eye all the time?" Harry shrugged his broad, masculine shoulders. "Well, does she make excuses to be around you? Does she turn pink and stare at the floor whenever you enter the room?" Suddenly, I knew I was not doing the best job ever of describing a female fallen in love. Heck, I wouldn't know; the last time I saw a girl in love was years ago—Lavender had gone to Auror Training and Fleur had moved with Bill to Egypt. Either I could ramble on like this, and make poor Harry totally confused, or I could confess I knew nothing of what love looks like. I had _felt_ love, certainly, but to describe it? No way, José.

"I'm sorry Harry, I really don't know. Nothing I'm saying makes any sense," my mouth had made its decision without consulting my head. Merlin, I hated it when it did that. But then I saw that his chest was falling up and down in the rhythm of the fan going on the ceiling and sighed. Somehow, I knew my life was going to be different. I was so confused! What was the point of telling him all that when he was just going to sleep anyway? All I had done was describe my behavior, with a few necessary changes so he wouldn't recognize it. I lay down next to him and pulled my quilt over us. I snuggled up next to him and breathed his scent. I drifted off to sleep with my best friend, for probably the last time.

~

He cracked open an eye, and saw Hermione sleeping soundly under his arm. He smiled. She looked so angelic, sleeping there. He fondly tucked a loose strand of her bushy brown hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. She had no idea—no idea—what he had been planning for so long. How he had organized it, planned it, for months, in time for her eighteenth birthday. He smiled, remembering her birthday was tomorrow. He knew she would love his surprise. She had to love it. She would love it.

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	2. Chapter 2 : Of Birthday Traditions

Holy smokes, I'm back. Chapter 2 of "A Birthday Surprise" is here. I hope you enjoy it. :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related things. They all belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros., and/or Scholastic.

--

Previously:

_He cracked open an eye, and saw Hermione sleeping soundly under his arm. He smiled. She looked so angelic, sleeping there. He fondly tucked a loose strand of her bushy brown hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. She had no idea—no idea—what he had been planning for so long. How he had organized it, planned it, for months, in time for her eighteenth birthday. He smiled, remembering her birthday was tomorrow. He knew she would love his surprise. She had to love it. She would love it. _

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When I was younger, before even Hogwarts (that seems like a lifetime ago—and maybe it was), my birthday was the one day of the year when I felt special. Actually, it was more the day before my birthday that made me feel special—the actual big day _never_ lived up to my expectations, and so my birthdays have passed unremarkably. Sometimes, before I had two best friends, I imagined how my mother felt about me and came up with the conclusion that she viewed me as I viewed my birthday: something to celebrate, to be sure, but always disappointing.

Nowadays, however, my birthday's a happy day for getting everyone together. It's celebrated by meals and the best gift I get is to be with family and friends: breakfast with my parents, a quiet lunch out with Ron and Harry, and a small bash for dinner at the Weasleys'. That year, I knew exactly what (or who) I want for my birthday, but I couldn't help but think that it would be just like every other. Ever since the Final Battle, Harry, Ron, and I had centered our lives on finding stability, comfort, and anonymity. That's nice and all, but now there was no chance of any excitement.

That said, when I woke up on the morn of my birthday in Harry's arms, I could sense that our familiar lifestyle was about to be changed forever. His arm was flung over my neck, and I had to grab his hand and fling it across the bed to move it. Of course, this woke him up. His eyes flew open and in them I could see him registering the situation. I giggled and the moment shattered.

Breakfast with my parents went by without a single incident out of the ordinary, as I'd expected. Mum warned me about keeping on top of things, as always, but I turned the tables when I started recommending organization strategies to her. After eating, I still had a few minutes before the boys would come by to pick me up for lunch. I climbed the polished wooden staircase up to my old bedroom, and smiled when I recognized the lace curtains. They had been my attempt to act more feminine. Same with the dusty dolls in my closet—ever since Mum had grown intense about my education, I had less time to play and be a girl than I probably had wanted to.

I ran a finger across the dust that had settled over my abandoned room. For a moment, I felt spiritual and sentimental, but it was over when I sneezed three times and Ron banged on the door. I smiled at his infamous impatience and left my sorrowful childhood behind me as I joined the boys on the way to lunch.

That year it was Harry's turn to pick the restaurant. He picked a nice place on Diagon Alley that I had never been to, or even noticed, before. When we entered, it was as if we had been dropped into a mysterious land of velvet. Everything was royal-purple velvet, or wine-red velvet, or jet-black velvet, or midnight-blue velvet. I glanced at Ron's face and had a hard time trying to suppress a grin at his repulsed expression.

Harry led us to a booth hidden in the back because of his extreme dislike for the paparazzi. Ron gingerly sat down on the plush violet velvet cushion, as if it could infect him. I slid into the side opposite him, and Harry gracefully sat next to Ron. I couldn't help but sigh at my unlikely romance with him.

Like breakfast, lunch flew by without many hitches. Harry's leg brushed against mine a few times, but he just smiled at me and moved. Ron didn't notice anything, of course; he was too occupied with stuffing his mouth with anything and everything in sight. I rolled my eyes and shoved a napkin at him.

"Pig," I muttered. Harry laughed quietly.

"So, Hermione," he said, "what were you hoping for for your eighteenth birthday?" I almost blurted out his name, but stopped myself in time. _Thank Merlin_.

"Are you telling me that you haven't gotten anything yet?" I managed to taunt without revealing anything about the cruel battle going on inside me. We all knew that no one in my immediate family-and-friends circle got me anything for my birthday anymore; after the war, everyone was glad just to be together and that was the best present I could ever ask for (except Harry, of course). Ron's mouth fell open with shock and regret at my teasing.

"Bloody hell, I forgot to get you something _again_!" Ron groaned. Harry and I almost died laughing and Ron just sat there rubbing his temple with one hand and holding onto his wand, as if his life depended on it, with the other.

We all went to take care of our own errands—Harry had something to do that he would not reveal, and I imagined that it must be a birthday surprise; Ron had to return to his place and prepare for another meeting with his overprotective mother—and agreed to meet at the Weasleys' dinner party later. I had nothing in particular to do, so I wandered around Diagon Alley for a while. Everybody I passed seemed intent with his or her shopping. Thinking back to my first year at Hogwarts, I remembered the excitement and anxiety that lingered in every child and parent. Today was no different: a mousy-haired eleven-year-old girl was running around the shops, pointing at various objects in the windows and yelling back to her mother, "Do I need this? How about this? Ooh, can I get this?" while her brother had his nose pressed up against the glass in the Quidditch store with an assortment of other schoolboys yearning to be a star Seeker, Catcher, Beater, or Keeper.

Around four, I noticed the familiar messy black head of my favorite Seeker bob through the sea of people and around the corner. _Didn't Harry say that he was shopping in Hogsmeade today?_ My need for knowledge got the best of me and I discreetly followed him, always making sure that we were separated by a few people. The bustling black cloaks and loud laughter and chatting were an easy cover-up, and so I slipped into the same shop he did without being noticed. The sound of fresh first-years died when the glass door closed, and then it was just me, Harry, the nondescript shopkeeper in the back, and three nervous young men picking out rings. I almost couldn't force myself to go on when I realized that Harry belonged to the group of men getting engaged, but when he told the shopkeeper what he was looking for in that voice of his I knew I couldn't go back now.

I strode right up behind him, with a look on my face of such intense concentration that the shopkeeper started and almost shrieked in alarm, and whipped out my wand.

Mm, brilliant. I do, in fact, know what happens next. The next chapter will come soon (I swear). Thanks so much for reading,

--insanehpluver


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